Departure
by x-Kim0x
Summary: Sequel to 'The Wedding not quite from Hell.'


**A/N:** Here's the sequel as promised. For anyone doesn't that doesn't know, Spaghetti Junction is a destination that was seen as a not very good prize on a National Lottery Program once. Keep the reviews coming; they are much appreciated.

**Departure.**

Archie Mitchell grumbled as he opened his eyes to the continuous ringing of his phone. His eyes opened slowly, reluctantly and grudgingly at this time as he extended one arm to grasp the offending handset.

"Mr Mitchell," the voice of a female chimed as he raised the handset to his ear.

He rolled his eyes. First to admit that he liked, desired and perhaps could not resist the attention of young women, Archie just wasn't in the mood nor the correct frame of mind right now. That was of course assuming that he was ever in a stable, healthy and adequate state of mind. "What?" he enquired in a less than co-operative tone.

The female gave a short sneeze before speaking up again. "My name is Joanna Andrews, I'm calling from Stanstead Airport."

Gazing confusedly toward the wall opposite, Archie began to question this. "Stanstead Airport?" he repeated.

"That's right. I'm calling to confirm your flight to Egypt on Friday."

Archie gave a discontented growl in response to this. "I'm sorry love," he began. "I don't know anything about a flight on Friday, to Egypt or otherwise," he insisted.

"I'm sorry," started the woman. "But you are Archibald Lionel Mitchell of Albert Square, Walford, E20. You must be mistaken, sir."

Devoid of the very little patience that he had possessed until now, Archie responded somewhat aggressively, "You're right about something; there must be some mistake here. But in no way will I tolerate you insinuating that mistake is on my part and that I'm only fit to be sectioned. Get off of my line now!" he ordered with a boom.

**

Ronnie and Danielle gazed gleefully out of the Vic's living room window as a man of around forty clambered out of a small black convertible in full view of the front window of the Bed and Breakfast. Following the male's rapturous knocking, Archie's door swung open with certain impatience, several minutes following the visitor's arrival in his car.

The man gave a small smile as Archie's being came into full view. "Good morning, sir," he began cheerfully. "I'm here on behalf of Brittany Ferries with regard to the over 60's weekend. Following your request for your ticket to be personally delivered to you, you'll know that this takes place in a fortnight's time," the man said.

There was a glint of pure, unadulterated and unforgettable hatred in Archie's eyes as he viewed the representative. "Is it?" he questioned gruffly. "I don't know anything about this, so why don't you do us all a favour, take your decrepit old dears off on their happy holidays and leave me alone?" he barked like a dog.

"Looks like someone didn't appreciate our little gesture at all," the girls giggled.

"Maybe we should have just given him the two finger treatment as Roxy recommended after all," Danielle suggested.

Two days later Archie Mitchell was the recipient of another unwelcome telephone call.

"I'm phoning to confirm your booking for a coach to Aberdeen with National Express," the voice on the other end announced.

With this, Archie narrowly avoided punching the wall which had earlier borne his confused gaze; in frustration. "What is it with all these travel operators phoning me all the time and dropping by my house?! Go away!" he screeched like skidding tyres.

**

A day in advance of this encounter, yet another followed. This time the voice cheerfully greeted him. "Good afternoon, Mr Mitchell. I hope you're well; I'm from London Victoria Station and am phoning to confirm your train to Spaghetti Junction."

Archie then hissed to an empty room. "I'm not well, since you ask," he started, but was soon interrupted by the anonymous caller. "I'm sorry to hear that," the voice began, "I hope you feel better soon," came the end of the sentence as Archie ventured out into his porch. Ronnie and Danielle were passing as he proclaimed, "I won't be for as long as these persistent calls with regard to travel arrangements that I haven't even initiated continue. Does no one want me or something?!" Finding this very satisfying, the girls giggled madly.

**

"Time for a slightly different approach, I think," Ronnie announced to her daughter later that evening as she reached for the phone and dialled the desired number. The pair smirked in agreement at the course of action.

**

Once again, Archie's telephone began to ring. If the calls that he had received in the past week hadn't been from an array of travel operators, the dirty, rotten, lying sleaze bag would have been accused of being popular.

"I'm pleased to inform you that you are the winner of a luxury break to Argentina."

After all of the manipulation that Archie had been a part of over the years, he wasn't going to be one to fall for this kind of money down the drain ploy on the part of whatever ringleader was pulling the strings of his second anonymous caller that day. "Oh yeah, and I've got to dial some number at the rate of a thousand pounds per minute in order to claim it, have I?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"Nothing like that, sir," the voice assured him. Your ticket will be in the post to you first thing tomorrow, you need not take any form of further action."

**

With Walford's biggest villain in recent times safely; unfortunately to an extent; at thirty thousand feet, his unfortunate relations reflected upon their successful plan of action against him.

"Well, that was worth the extra money we paid to get that travel representative to say that the 'break' was a prize," announced Ronnie, as she clinked champagne glasses with her long lost daughter.


End file.
